ABC Shorts: Timmy and Me…
Timmy and Me
Copyright 2018, A. B. Carolan
“James, you seem in a foul mood tonight,” said Sam MacAllister.
Bradford had taken a pub stool next to Mac and ordered a pint. After a lengthy sip, he said, “How can you tell?”
“Not a wink at the barmaid, me lad, even though she’s flirting with you. She never flirts with me.”
“You’re married. And leave me alone, Sam. You’d not understand.”
“Try me. Girlfriend problems?”
“No. I just talked to Beatrice on my mobile. She’s still at the office.”
“You arrest them, she defends them. It’ll make a good family business if you ever commit, I’d say.”
“You say a lot of things that shouldn’t be said.”
“Like I said, moody.”
“If you saw what I just saw, you’d be moody too.”
“Tell me about it. I need a good story.”
“A true story. I was at the scene of a robbery. Grocer over by Piccadilly. Morgan and I were interviewing witnesses when the thieves returned.”
“Stupid of them. We need more dumb ones to better our statistics. I’m guessing Morgan and you arrested them.”
“Not exactly….”
***
The scruffy lad had some kind of gun. So did the thing beside him. The clerk and two cops raised their hands. Other witnesses waiting for their turn to be interviewed rushed for cover.
“You don’t want to shoot that,” Bradford warned the lad who seemed to be in his early teens.
“He forgot something,” the thing said to Bradford in a deep baritone voice emanating from somewhere. The Queen’s English was clear and precise. “Go get it, Timmy. I’ll cover the coppers.”
The lad named Timmy disappeared down one aisle but soon returned with a box of bandages. He showed them to the thing.
“That should work,” it said.
The two backed out of the establishment. Outside, they turned and ran.
Everyone started talking at once, but Bradford had the presence of mind to dash out and give chase. The lad was fast, but his companion was slow. It turned and shot Bradford.
He was hit by some kind of field, though, not a bullet. He felt like a net of electricity had been thrown over him, causing him to lose control of his muscles. He slumped to the ground like a pile of mud from the Thames.
He was still conscious when Morgan dragged him to the wall of a building and put him into a sitting position against it.
“Did those two kids attack you, sir?”
Bradford was barely able to shake his head in the negative. He managed to raise his index finger.
“I think you have a concussion, or something worse. There were two of them. Are you saying there was just one?”
***
“Sounds weird,” MacAllister said. “But Morgan’s probably right. You took a hit to the head. Bloody wild kids.”
“There was only one kid, Mac. And this thing. Just like I said. I didn’t imagine it. Morgan and all the rest are confused.”
MacAllister raised his hands. “OK, OK, if you say so.”
Bradford sighed, through some money down on the bar, and left the pub, still watching Mac shake his head in the mirror on the wall as he walked out.
***
Bradford’s only recourse was to find Timmy. He knew the urchin. He was a pickpocket with his worst previous crime being slicing the straps of a tourist’s handbag and making off with it.
He also knew the lad was basically homeless. He was supposed to be living with his uncle, but he was drunk most of the time. He’d send Timmy out to steal food and drink for him. Timmy usually hung out in an alleyway not far from the grocer. Is his uncle injured?
Bradford checked there the next morning. Sure enough, the disheveled urchin was there. He strode toward Bradford and stopped in front of him, standing on tiptoes to make himself appear taller.
“Thanks for coming, copper. Sorry about the scene at the grocer. My friend needed bandages for his friend. But I don’t think she’s getting better. Can you help?” The last question was emphasized by Timmy’s grabbing Bradford’s hand.
They stopped at the backdoor of a commercial space that was for lease. Bradford looked inside but could see nothing in the dim interior.
“You don’t have some friends in there waiting to rob me, do you?”
“Just those two friends. The lady thing is the one injured.”
“Why do you and I see them for what they are and others can’t?”
Timmy shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. “Who knows? They can speak just us. Maybe that’s why? Or hypnosis? Who cares?”
“Yes. Sure. OK, take me to them.”
“Timmy says you’re his friend,” said the thing from the grocer, waving his tentacles at Bradford. “Are you? And are you our friend?”
Bradford nodded at Timmy. “I’ve fed him a few times. He’d be a good lad if he had a decent home and went to school.”
The creature seemed to ignore Bradford’s comment. “My friend is hurt. Can you help her?”
Bradford went to the injured creature, squatting to study her. Unlike her companion, who was pink and energetic, she seemed pale and lethargic. A purplish fluid had stained the base of a tentacle.
“What happened?”
“Timmy first asked whether we were ETs,” said the healthy thing. “You get right to the point. I like that.”
“I don’t care what you are. You robbed a poor grocer.”
“Only for first-aid stuff,” said Timmy.
Bradford stood. “I’ll repeat. What happened to her?”
“Dandy chased her and bit her,” said Timmy.
“And who is Dandy?”
“This dog who hangs around. He didn’t like my friends.”
“Don’t you think he has a point?” said Bradford. Timmy shrugged again. “OK, I know a veterinarian nearby. I don’t think a normal physician would know what to do in a case like this. Your friends look like an octopus with short legs. Maybe the veterinarian could start with that.”
“You’re probably right,” said the healthy creature. “I’ve seen an octopus in one of your aquariums. Baltimore, I think it was. Can you carry my friend?”
“Depends. Let me see how much she weighs.”
***
“I don’t take care of children,” said the veterinarian.
“Can you turn the hypnosis off?” said Bradford to the healthy creature. “Or whatever it is you’re doing to everyone else but Timmy and me.”
The creature gave an audible sigh. “It might be counterproductive. By the way, I don’t know why it doesn’t work on you and Timmy.”
“You can figure that out later,” said Bradford. “Just stop doing whatever you do.”
“Good Lord!” The veterinarian stepped away from the exam table. “What kind of creature is this?”
Bradford grabbed him and pinned his arms. “I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. She’s wounded and needs some care. A dog tried to tear off one of her tentacles.”
“These creatures aren’t from Earth!”
“I’ll give you that. They look like horrible nightmares, but the one that’s not wounded is amiable enough. He made friends with Timmy here.” Bradford released one arm and showed the doctor his credentials. “Scotland Yard. Trust me. This is important.”
That seemed to settle the veterinarian.
***
“You’re sure it’s here,” said Bradford, putting the wounded creature down on the grass on her two short legs.
“I’m surprised, Inspector,” she said. “You Earthling’s have a cloaking device. I saw one in a documentary.”
“Probably in the same category as MI7 that secretly handles ET lifeforms,” said Bradford with a smile.
“No, it was a documentary film about extinct sealife titled The Voyage Home,” said the other ET.
Bradford made the connection. The ETs thought think that Star Trek IV was a documentary! “The one with the whales?”
“Yes. A very interesting documentary. By the way, for your information, those lifeforms aren’t extinct. We saw those beautiful creatures when we took a tour from Cape Cod.”
“Fine. Whatever you say, old chap. So how do I get you into your ship?”
“We’ll just walk in. I can support my mate.”
“So, are you two explorers looking for intelligent life?”
“Oh no, Inspector. We’re not explorers. We’re retired tourists. Thanks for all your help.”
Bradford watched them disappear, seemingly into thin air. Timmy and he heard a whir, the grass ceased to be flattened, and a strong breeze disheveled Timmy’s hair.
“They’re very nice,” said Timmy.
Bradford took Timmy’s hand. “I agree. We’d better keep all this to ourselves, though.”
***
“Feeling better?” said MacAllister, taking the pub stool next to Bradford.
“It was just some indigestion.”
“And what happened to the two little thieves?”
“Just one. I think I’m going to try to adopt him.”
“You’re single.”
“Maybe not for long. I proposed to Beatrice. And Timmy and I see eye to eye about a lot of things. Beatrice likes the idea.”
“Blimey! A new wife and a new child, instantly. Talk about committing fast.”
“Let’s just say my horizons have been considerably expanded.” Bradford took a sip from his mug and smiled at MacAllister via the pub’s mirror.
***
Comments are always welcome!
The Golden Years of Virginia Morgan. Ashley Scott witnesses a nurse’s murder on Frank Sinatra Way in Hoboken, a professional hit. A reporter is also a witness. And the people who ordered the hit don’t like to leave loose ends, as Agent Scott and the reporter soon learn. As they become more involved, a conspiracy is uncovered that goes far beyond Hoboken. Why was a nurse from a retirement home the target? Why does a future presidential candidate become one? How will a future U.S. government treat its elderly who know too many secrets? On sale now at 50% off on Smashwords.
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